


Three Princes

by enbookcased



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Bodice-Ripper, Enemies to Lovers, Felix is called yongbok, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Minor Kim Seungmin/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Swordplay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:27:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28235406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbookcased/pseuds/enbookcased
Summary: “You cheated!” Changbin gasped.Hyunjin scoffed. “Because the enemy will always play by the rules, am I correct?” He turned his head and spat into the dirt. “With all due respect, Your Highness,” Hyunjin’s boot was final against Changbin’s sternum; the look Hyunjin gave him from down the length of his body long and cool. “It is you who is wasting my time. Come back when you’re ready to learn.”--Once upon a time there were three princes. This is their tale.
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/Seo Changbin
Comments: 21
Kudos: 32
Collections: SKZ Secret Santa 2020





	Three Princes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sapphirehynbn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirehynbn/gifts).



> Written for [SKZ Secret Santa 2020](https://twitter.com/stayfanevents)! Thank you to the mods for running such a fun event :) Dear [sapphirehynbn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirehynbn), I hope this at least puts a smile on your face!
> 
> Note: I wrote this _well_ before the MAMA performance, I'll have you know! /lh
> 
> M rating for this chapter simply for nudity. Do heed tags; there is a high possibility the rating will go up in the future.

It was a fine spring day, that Changbin could see from the arched windows alone. It was a perfect day to spend outdoors, riding his favorite mount or perhaps taking in a bit of archery. Maybe even a visit to the market in town. Not stuffed inside sitting on an old, hard chair listening to even older men drone on about crops and vassals and finances, all subjects that bored Changbin to tears.

Changbin had taken to counting every time the envoy positioned directly in front of him blinked in order to make it through the grueling assembly he was currently in the middle of. It was a tactic that he had found to be quite effective in keeping him awake. It was also a fairly useful intimidation stratagem; on more than one occasion, his advisors had praised him on appearing stoic and unyielding in front of less-than-friendly diplomats. If they only knew what he was _really_ thinking about while he glared at them, head tilted down in a dead stare he’d perfected long ago; it was rarely as menacing as his gaze. Mostly, he was thinking about pies.

He felt more than saw his older brother, Chan, lean into his space to mutter, “It’s not that kind of meeting, Changbin.” He sat back, trying to soften his expression, but by the look on the envoy’s face, Changbin must not have been all that successful.

Leaving the council chamber an hour later, Changbin lengthened his strides, mostly to get away from that highly drafty room, but also because of the uncommon, anticipatory feeling that was racing through his blood. His boots bore heavily along the stone floor, but then, his weren’t the only ones.

“You’re certainly in a hurry,” Seungmin, his younger brother, said with a smirk in Changbin’s direction.

“That’s because he’s off to meet Ser Hyunjin,” Chan replied, a lilting tone to his voice. “They’re going to brandish long and pointy things at each other and grunt a lot.”

Changbin shot Chan a long-suffering look, rolling his eyes as Seungmin snickered. “Yes, well, while I’m off polishing my _skills_ —”

“Polishing something,” Chan giggled.

“I suppose you’ll be off to pester poor Yongbok some more? I honestly have no idea why he puts up with you. But then I suppose he is used to getting big, dumb animals to heel.”

“Oh, just,” Chan tried to hide his laughter behind his hand, “sincerely, fuck you.”

“This is your first training lesson with the new Knight Captain, isn’t it?” Seungmin shook his head, sucking on his teeth. “I wish you luck, big brother. You’re going to need it.”

“I can hold my own in a match!” Changbin protested, scoffing. The slide of Seungmin’s gaze away from him told Changbin enough about how much his younger brother believed him. “I can! Besides, it’s just sparring. I’ve done that plenty of times with Ser Jihoon.”

“Yes, but Ser Jihoon loved you and doted on you constantly, ever since you were a boy. Something tells me Ser Hyunjin is not about to continue the tradition.”

“Something tells me our dear brother wants a different sort of relationship with _Ser Hyunjin_ ,” Chan chortled, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yes, you’ve already established that line of thinking, good job,” Changbin retorted snidely, giving Chan a sour look, lip curled. “Please tell poor Yongbok he has got to stop laughing at all your terrible jokes, he’s made your head far too big.”

Chan just laughed.

“I do suppose no matter the outcome, you’ll finally get what you’ve always wanted,” Seungmin murmured.

“Oh? And what is that, pray tell?”

Seungmin’s grin was telling. “Ser Hyunjin’s attention.”

“Must I remind you that you were found under a rock as a baby?” Changbin retorted, exasperated.

“I heard it was an overturned wagon, actually,” Chan said, grinning.

Seungmin simply raised an eyebrow at the both of them as the three brothers split at the grand hall, Seungmin peeling off further into the castle depths—likely headed for the library—whilst Chan and Changbin made their way out the back gates, Changbin toward the soldiers’ barracks and Chan inevitably toward the stables. Changbin watched his back for a moment and shook his head.

The palace of Haven was a small yet portentous castle, boasting a household staff of over thirty, not counting the adjoining guard quarters. In all, there were probably nearly a hundred people in and out of the castle on a daily basis. Today, it seemed relatively quiet, only a few soldiers milling about, polishing their blades with leather strops that had seen better days. Changbin nodded at their sketched and hurried bows before hopping over the fence surrounding the small sparring ring in the center of the west courtyard.

Changbin’s opponent was already there, leaning back against the wooden fence, his long black hair half pulled back but still shining distractingly in the midday sun, a few tendrils hanging in front of his face. He cut a long, lithe figure which belied a hidden strength that had caught Changbin off guard on more than one occasion. Hyunjin was easy to underestimate, to write off as being simply a pretty face, but he had risen quickly from a lowly, enlisted guard to Knight Captain for a reason. Having quickly run up the ranks, he was the youngest to achieve the title in a century, as quick with his mind as he was with a blade. He was a tactical genius who had kept their borders safe these past few seasons, and Changbin had heard the crown council call him ‘indispensable’ on more than one occasion.

Changbin loathed him.

It was clear from the outset that he and Hyunjin were oil and water. Changbin had grown up accustomed to certain liberties due to his station in life. Though he was not the crown prince, he was second in line to the throne, on a trajectory to someday take over the crown’s armies as Commander and lead them honorably.

And when the aging then-Captain vacated his position and Hyunjin was thusly appointed in his place, Changbin had to grit his teeth and stand by as his father, the King, tapped the soldier once, then twice upon the shoulders and called out his new title, Ser Hyunjin, Knight Captain of the Royal Guard.

Changbin had been used to the deference of the former captain, as with anyone in the palace. Hyunjin was not so keen on things such as formalities. Case in point:

“Oh, Your _Highness_! Took you long enough to get down here, didn’t it? Those legs aren’t getting any longer, are they?” Hyunjin crossed his arms and shook his head, tsking. “Pity.”

Changbin felt a thrill of what _had_ to be hate run down his spine at the jab, and his hold on his sword hilt, which he hadn’t even realized he was gripping, tightened before he undid his sword belt and leaned it carefully against the fence. He then faced Hyunjin, who had kicked off from his slouched position. Nonchalant though he appeared, Hyunjin’s face told a separate tale, his mouth tense, his eyes tracking Changbin’s every move. A soldier in every sense.

“You’d make a terrible spy, by the way,” Changbin said conversationally as he went over to the barrel of wooden practice swords and selected one, pulling it out and inspecting it. “I can tell your military background from a mile away.” He shoved that sword back and picked up another one, thumbing the tip.

A smirk crossed Hyunjin’s face for just a moment; a flash later and it was gone. “I am not here for a dalliance, Your Highness. Pick your sword and be done with it so the training can begin.”

Changbin swung the wooden sword in an X formation across his body. “This will suffice.” He walked toward Hyunjin, who had moved into the center of the ring. “Shall I?”

Hyunjin inclined his head, his own sword held at the ready. After a beat, Changbin realized it was all the answer he was likely to get. He advanced, thrusting forward experimentally. Hyunjin knocked his blade away easily, as if it required little thought. “Again.”

Changbin feinted left. Instead of taking the bait, however, Hyunjin slid his blade away and leapt back, leaving Changbin off balance. It was then all too easy for Hyunjin to lightly swing his blade to Changbin’s other side and score a touch. “Again.”

Irritated, Changbin lunged; he knew instantly he’d overextended, leaving his flank wide open. The ungentle push of Hyunjin’s sword tip against his ribcage only served as further embarrassment.

“You’re too tense. Again,” Hyunjin said, stepping back into ready position.

Changbin knew he had to keep a cool head about him for these matches, but already Hyunjin had managed to get under his skin. With a growl, he raised his sword above his head and brought it forth in a mighty swing—but it met with empty air as Hyunjin tucked and rolled underneath and to the side of him. The slap of Hyunjin’s blade against his thigh only added fuel to his already raging fire.

“Again.”

“That was not a killing blow!” Changbin exploded, staggering forward. Hyunjin, seemingly unruffled, hiked an eyebrow. He waited for Changbin to come near and then deliberately pointed his sword tip against Changbin’s unguarded middle. “There, then. Again.”

By this time, a small crowd had gathered around the ring, servants and stable hands and fellow soldiers, the like, all watching curiously on as Prince Changbin was brought to humiliation once more. It made the tips of his ears heat, a feat in the chilly April mid-afternoon.

“This is a waste of my time,” Changbin shot back; he could hear his frustration bleeding through in his voice, but he was far past caring by that stage. “I’m learning nothing except that you like to show off!”

“Again,” Hyunjin gritted, the first slip of Hyunjin’s obviously carefully sculpted mask. Changbin had finally seen that he was getting under Hyunjin’s skin as well.

Shaking out his limbs, trying to throw off the anger from himself as well, Changbin held up his sword once more. Offensive moves were obviously not working; it was time to go on the defense. He allowed Hyunjin to take the first step, working backward himself, seeking to draw Hyunjin in. Just when he thought he had him, Changbin locked their swords and twisted, attempting to disarm his opponent. Hyunjin, however, was ready for him.

Sweeping his foot, he knocked Changbin’s ankle, causing him to lose balance and fall. It was he who was disarmed instead. Hyunjin kicked Changbin’s sword away.

“You cheated!” Changbin gasped, wind knocked out of him from the fall.

Hyunjin scoffed. “Because the enemy will always play by the rules, am I correct?” He turned his head and spat into the dirt. “With all due respect, Your _Highness_ ,” Hyunjin’s boot was final against Changbin’s sternum; the look Hyunjin gave him from down the length of his body long and cool. “It is _you_ who is wasting _my_ time. Come back when you’re ready to learn.”

-}{-

Chan wound his way down to the stables, feeling loose in his bones, his steps light, a smile on his face. He saw the source of his happy mood from a distance away and shouted. “Oi, Yongbok!”

“Channie!” Yongbok shouted back, equally as exuberant, and then sketched a quick, yet deep bow. “I mean, Y-your Highness. Sorry.” Chan could see he was blushing as he straightened back up, the red of his cheeks making his freckles somehow more pronounced, and Chan’s heart did a lazy flop inside his chest.

“You know I told you not to call me that. I hear it all day long from everybody else. I like that we can drop the formalities when it’s just you and me.”

Yongbok’s blush, if anything, deepened, the fawn color of his fringe failing to cover it. “Sorry, Your Highness—I mean. Channie.”

If Chan’s heart was flipping lazily before, it was doing full acrobatics inside him now, beating strongly against his ribcage.

Yongbok led him inside the barn, hanging up tack as he went. He brought Chan to the third stall on the right, leaning close and lowering his voice. “She's doing better, but don't spook her.” _She_ was a mahogany bay, young and unbroken. She was Yongbok's newest, a purchase that everyone but Chan had been against. He had accompanied Yongbok to the sea market where Yongbok had first lain eyes on her, and he'd seen firsthand the eerie connection between human and animal that they seemed to share. There was no fathomable way he could have denied Yongbok that day.

The horse in question was making skittish noises in her stall, pressed in the back of it, eyes wide and wary on Chan. He didn’t dare step forward. “Yongbok, are you certain you—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish what he was going to say. Yongbok, against everything that was sane and good, stepped up to the stall, toward the nervous horse. He reached out a hand toward the frightened animal. Chan opened his mouth to call out, ready to haul Yongbok back if the horse reared, but instead—

Instead, the horse calmed, coming forward, pressing her nose into Yongbok’s hand.

Chan’s mouth dropped open, stunned.

“See? She’s learning to trust that I’m not here to harm her.” Yongbok’s smile, when he looked back at Chan, was breathtaking, and it was at that moment that Chan knew. He had never done it before, but it was as clear to him as the dew on the grass and spring flowers in the soft early morning light. Chan was falling in love.

Afterward, Yongbok led them out into the pasture, procuring an apple from somewhere and peeling slices off with a small knife. He held the knife out toward Chan, a wedge of apple waiting for him on the flat of the blade, and Chan took it with a murmured thanks. It was sweet and tart on his tongue.

The late afternoon sunlight did wonders to the canvas that was Yongbok’s face, lighting it even further aglow, the spots dusting his cheeks like the dappling of a fallow deer. Chan dared to reach out, not for the first time, and palmed the cut of Yongbok’s small jawbone, his fingers running the length of it. Yongbok’s mouth lifted into a tender smile and he closed his eyes, sighing a little and settling his side against Chan. They stayed like that for a long while, watching the sun slip down the horizon, until everything around them was bathed in gold. Chan was certain that whenever he saw another sunset for the rest of his life, he would think of Yongbok.

-}{-

The knock on Changbin’s chamber door was louder than usual.

Mealtimes at the Haven palace were typically a communal affair. The Queen considered it incredibly important that everyone, of all stations, who resided within the palace walls at least ate together. She believed that something as simple as sharing a meal could forge a bond between all people. It was one of many things she was absolutely right about, Changbin usually thought.

Tonight his head was filled with less than charitable considerations.

Hyunjin had soundly humiliated him. It would be a wonder if Changbin could ever see fit to show his face outside the palace walls ever again. To add insult to injury, Changbin could not seem able to get the boot print out of his tunic.

Still, for a moment back there, Changbin's entire world had narrowed down to Hyunjin towering over him, black bangs falling into his sweaty face. The feel of his heavy boot against Changbin's chest and the thrill that had run through him because of it. That was what had humiliated Changbin the most.

He was toying with a carved wooden horse that the stable master, Yongbok, had gifted him some time ago when the knock came. He had only one idea who it could be; both Chan and Seungmin had already been by to see how he was doing, which let him know that word of his defeat had already traveled completely around the castle. Setting down the horse along the window ledge, Changbin crossed his bedroom and unlocked the heavy door, opening it. He looked up from the dish of food hovering in front of him to a face he was sure he hadn’t wanted to see again for a long, long time. “What are _you_ doing here?” he hissed.

Hyunjin sketched out the barest of bows before shouldering his way inside of Changbin’s quarters, food held deftly aloft. “You requested supper. I brought it.”

Changbin, still at the door, stunned, shook his head clear. “Were you so disciplined that you’ve been demoted to hall boy?”

Hyunjin tipped his head back in a laugh at that. “Actually, I wasn’t disciplined at all.” He made himself comfortable on the very same ledge that housed Yongbok’s horse, picking it up with his free hand and eyeing it. “Yongbok made this, didn’t he?”

Changbin strode over and snatched the horse out of Hyunjin’s grasp. “Don’t touch my things,” he growled. Just seeing Hyunjin, long-limbed and larger-than-life, in his space and acting like he belonged there was raising Changbin’s hackles.

The meal Hyunjin had brought consisted of grilled pork belly, Changbin’s favorite. His mouth watered at the scent of the meat, but he’d be damned if he’d accept food from someone he so deeply despised.

Hyunjin, sensing his hesitancy, picked up a bit of pork with his fingers, holding it out for Changbin to take. Changbin knew the look on his face was a scandalized one by the lopsided smirk that graced Hyunjin’s full lips. He held the portion of meat aloft for a long moment, right at Changbin’s mouth. The look in his eyes dared Changbin to take it, but he held steadfast. Shrugging, Hyunjin then popped it into his own mouth.

“Hey!” Changbin shouted, yanking the plate from Hyunjin with both hands. “I thought you said this was _my_ supper!”

“I did.” Damn that smirk; Changbin wanted to smack it off of Hyunjin’s face. “But you weren’t eating it.” He licked his fingertips. “You should try some, s’good.”

“I need you to leave.”

“But I—”

“I said _leave_.”

Hyunjin held up both hands, getting up from his perch. “If that’s what you truly want.”

Changbin clenched his jaw, his grip on the plate tightening. “It is. And do please remember your manners on the way out.”

Hyunjin stilled, standing in front of Changbin. The air between them was charged, and Changbin couldn’t help but notice that he was eye level with that distracting mouth. The one with the beautifully plush, soft-looking lips. Hyunjin’s lips were incendiary, lighting a fire inside of Changbin he couldn’t begin to know how to put out. Because he didn’t know what else to do, Changbin tore his gaze away, looking up into Hyunjin’s eyes instead. That was a mistake.

The look on his face was as arrogant as ever, but the heat in his eyes had Changbin locked in place. Hyunjin bowed, slowly, not once breaking eye contact. “Good night, my prince. Sweet dreams.”

And then he was gone.

Changbin let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and slumped against his bed frame. He’d never admit it out loud, but the plate wobbled just a bit in his grasp before he set it down on the ledge Hyunjin had just vacated.

\--

The orange and white cat jumped down from its hideout in the library stacks and butted its head against the limp and waiting knuckles; Seungmin let out a gusty sigh. “She’s always going to like you more, isn’t she?”

“Well, to begin with, she is a _he_.” Minho quirked a faint, feline smile at Seungmin while the cat continued to play with his dangling fingers, batting at them gently with soft paws.

“How can you tell?”

“How—Seungmin, have you never looked at yourself while bathing?”

Seungmin blushed, and he wasn’t sure if it was because Minho had bluntly referred to Seungmin’s body or that he had used his name so informally. “I-of course I have,” he stuttered out, feeling much the fool. But then, that was usually the case whenever Seungmin was around the palace’s seneschal.

It was a mystery to Seungmin how Minho had even ended up in such a position at the castle, as he was woeful indeed when it came to his duties. Seungmin couldn’t count how many times he had to tap on Minho’s arm to keep him awake during council briefings. There was also that one very memorable instance where the palace was hosting a pair of renowned etymologists, and Minho had mistakenly (or perhaps on purpose, Seungmin was of the mind) plopped two large hissing cockroaches directly into their hands upon introduction. Seungmin would remember the screams for decades, of that he was quite certain.

However, whatever he lacked in skill he more than doubled in charm, and perhaps that was all one needed to move up in their household. That, at least, was Seungmin’s best guess.

“You know, I can never read you,” Minho said, cocking his head as the cat wound around his outstretched hand, rubbing its face continually across Minho’s fingers. “All I can ever see in your face is fearlessness.”

Seungmin blinked, putting the book he had just pulled off a shelf away again. Fearlessness? He nearly opened his mouth to ask _how_ , why _that_ word out of everything, but instead Minho pressed on.

“Generally, everyone in the palace, staff and otherwise, they’re all at least a little frightened of me,”

 _Because they don’t want sudden handfuls of cockroaches_ , Seungmin thought faintly.

“—But with you, I never see such a thing.”

“I fear you,” Seungmin blurted out, blunt and thick-tongued, feeling, as usual, off his footing whenever Minho was around. “I would be stupid not to.”

“Do you?” Minho’s smile bloomed fully. “That is quite possibly the loveliest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Thank you, Seungmin.”

“I’m not going to tell you ‘you’re welcome.’”

“Mm, I understand. I’ll know I am, anyway.”

-}{-

It was a week before Changbin and Hyunjin met once more in the sparring ring. Changbin tried to deny the nauseated feeling flooding his insides, turning him to ice, but it was difficult to ignore.

He’d spent the bulk of his days following that sickening humiliation training hard, working his sword through practice dummy after wooden practice dummy, cajoling Chan into sparring with him late at night, ruminating over what he could remember of that single sparring match and how he could have worked things more in his favor. If there was one thing Changbin was good at, it was hindsight.

“Previously, I went easy on you,” Hyunjin began in lieu of a greeting. Changbin sputtered. “I needed to see where your skills lay. I will not be so lenient this time. Let’s go.”

“Can I not at least ready myself first? If I spar in this, my mother will have my head on a pike,” Changbin retorted, feeling the irritation that was customary around Hyunjin already settling against his skin, like a kitten having his fur licked the wrong way. His fingers were deft in unfastening his jerkin, and he tried not to notice the way Hyunjin’s eyes followed the movement, but it was akin to standing next to a hearth fire and not noticing the heat.

There were a pair of wooden practice swords at Hyunjin’s feet. Once Changbin was down to his tunic and breeches, the cool early spring day making gooseflesh pebble across his skin, the captain kicked one of the swords up and caught it, then tossed it easily into the air in Changbin’s direction. Changbin caught it readily, not that anyone cared to notice. “Alright, we can—” he began.

He got no further, Hyunjin having advanced once the little wooden sword was in Changbin’s hand, and swung. Changbin just barely got his arm up in time for the block. The shock of the blow rang all the way to his shoulders, but he gritted his teeth and ignored it, shoving Hyunjin off. “That eager, are we?”

“You talk far too much,” Hyunjin retorted in a low growl, regaining his footing and swinging again. Changbin parried once more, but he lost half a step in the process, something he knew both of them noticed, if Hyunjin’s aggravating smirk was anything to go by. He expected Hyunjin to wait and let him regain his footing, as was customary; instead, Hyunjin pressed his advantage and knocked Changbin flat on his ass in the dirt. The view was far too familiar for Changbin’s liking.

“You didn’t allow me to recoup!” Changbin shouted, indignant, scrambling to get back up.

“Terribly sorry, Your Highness. Next time, shall I wait and let you stab me? Because that is exactly what a _true_ enemy would do.” Hyunjin’s voice was like steel, mocking and mirthless.

“This is not a real battle!” Changbin shouted back, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re not supposed to be _actually killing each other_ here!”

Hyunjin’s face was one of quiet fury. “Then what is this, if not to prepare you for actual war? Your Highness, you may be a brilliant tactician, but your sword skills, to put it plainly, are shite.” Hyunjin spat into the dirt to punctuate his statement.

The crowd this time seemed larger, most likely attracted by Changbin’s indignant bleating. Changbin caught a glimpse of Chan’s auburn hair in the rabble before turning his attention back toward Hyunjin. “Fine, then,” he grit out, gripping his sword so tight he felt the wood creak against the palm of his hand. “If you’re to be my enemy,” he raised his sword once more, “come at me!”

Hyunjin advanced again, his steps picking up speed until he was upon Changbin, leaping at him, his sword coming down in a wide arc. Changbin saw the opening—Hyunjin’s right flank, exposed for an instant, no more—but he didn’t know if he could take the opportunity in time. If he made it, it was a killing blow, but if he missed, Hyunjin was sure to connect, and that would be a second loss for Changbin.

He took the chance.

Jolting forward, Changbin thrust his sword—and felt pain across his wrist as the flat of Hyunjin’s blade slammed down on it, disarming him. His sword clattered to the dirt below and Changbin went to one knee, clutching his arm. The pain was overwhelming, but he didn’t think anything was broken. Still, Hyunjin was bearing down, sword raised again, ready to finish him, and Changbin—

Changbin should have surrendered then and there. He was soundly beaten, that was obvious not only to himself, but to the cheering crowd around them. He caught sight of Chan, half over the sparring ring fence, as if to intervene. But this wasn’t the kind of fight Changbin could have an intervention and live to hold his head up afterward. Hyunjin had been right; all of his instructors before this had coddled him, too afraid to properly fight the son of the King. And because of that, he was weak. Too weak. He would never be respected amongst the men he was meant to lead if this match stopped with anything less than a clear victory or defeat.

He should just concede and keep what little pride he had left.

But then, as Hyunjin bore down, Changbin remembered. He rose quickly to one knee and spun, keeping his other leg out straight, wildly hoping. It connected.

Hyunjin, balance swept out from underneath him, rolled to compensate, keeping his sword tucked close to his body. But it was just enough time, just enough of a breath, for Changbin to reach for his own dropped sword. Hyunjin reached out, but so did Changbin.

They both ended up with swords held to their necks.

For a long, tense moment they just stood there, the pair of them, blades still up. Changbin could feel the roughness of the wood against his throat, scratching up and down with every heaving breath he took. The small crowd they had attracted around the ring was clamorous; Changbin could hear Chan’s distinctive voice shouting his approval.

The pleased look in Hyunjin’s eye, however, was all Changbin could see.

\--

Dinner that night was a much more jovial affair for Changbin, who entertained quite a few reenactments of the afternoon’s events from equally drunk and fawning guardsmen and household staff. The cook’s take on Ser Hyunjin’s deft roll was particularly enjoyable. Even the knights had a laugh.

Changbin did not mean to keep Hyunjin in his peripheral the entire night, but he absolutely did just that, acutely aware of every toss of his head, every lift of a fork or cup. He directed one of the servers with the first tray of custard sweets toward Hyunjin’s table and dared to look over after he did so. Hyunjin lifted up his pastry in acknowledgement; Changbin would go to his grave before he admitted just how such a tiny tip of the head could make his ears burn.

\--

Changbin awoke in the middle of the night, but he wasn’t entirely certain _why_. He blinked blearily into the darkness; the linens hanging around his heavy four poster bed were nearly opaque, allowing for privacy, however that also meant Changbin couldn’t see much past them into the room at large. When a soft noise sounded a handsbreadth away, Changbin was awake instantly, blood pounding in his veins as he sat up, cursing the fact that he had sent his servants away for the evening to sleep in their own quarters. As customary as it was to keep one’s personal servants nearby at all times, sometimes Changbin simply needed the privacy. Now he was regretting the action.

Trying to figure out if he had enough time to reach for his dagger, sheathed and strapped to his headboard, Changbin let his blankets pool at his waist. Just as he decided to go for it, reaching back blindly for the hilt, there was movement at the foot of his bed, his curtains shifting.

Changbin’s fingers closed around the hilt just as the curtains began to draw back, and he couldn’t help the loud scraping sound as he pulled it quickly out of its sheath, rolling forward to one knee in a fluid motion he knew Hyunjin would have given an approving nod over. He brought his dagger forward toward his assailant, who had just made their presence known, curtains parted around what had to be a nighttime spectre. The thing was, this spectre was wearing Ser Hyunjin’s face, standing very still with Changbin’s blade at his neck.

For a moment, they just stared at one another, Changbin breathing heavily due to the adrenaline coursing through him, eyes wide and locked on Hyunjin’s impassive face. Hyunjin calmly nudged the blade away and Changbin finally remembered he was holding his dagger, lowering it and sitting back on his haunches. “By the gods, I could have killed you. Do you often sneak into royal chambers?” he snarked, moving back and re-sheathing his blade.

“First time, actually,” Hyunjin replied calmly. “Do you often sleep in the nude?”

Changbin yelped, though he quietened almost immediately, trying not to wake the entire palace, and jerked his covers over his lap. “Yes, actually. Do you not?”

Hyunjin snorted, kneeling on the bed and letting the curtains close around them both. “In the barracks? Not hardly. I’m not inviting anyone like that.”

“My nudity isn’t an invitation,” Changbin said haughtily.

“It isn’t?” Hyunjin went to his hands and knees, for all intents and purposes crawling toward Changbin, but to Changbin it looked more like a predator stalking its prey, his movements liquid, yet exact. Changbin was fairly certain he knew who the prey was. “And earlier? Was that not an invitation?”

By this time, Hyunjin was leaning over Changbin, his long hair parted at his neck, his shirt gaping and Changbin could just make out the shadow of a bare clavicle and the long column of his throat, the glint of something silver hanging on a chain hanging from it. He followed the path up to Hyunjin’s face, saw the gleam in his eyes. He could feel his heart thudding fast and hard in his chest; he was a fawn and Hyunjin was the wolf. “Have you come to kill me?”

Hyunjin’s mouth slid into a smirk so infuriating Changbin wanted to— “If you really believed that, would you have sheathed your blade?”

Changbin didn’t respond, still so caught in Hyunjin’s gaze. He was plenty certain he had never been looked at in such a way before, except he had seen that exact expression only hours earlier. He was just as affected then as he was now, his mouth parting involuntarily; he was suddenly so very thirsty. Hyunjin rose up on his knees, reaching out with one hand. The moment before Hyunjin touched him was so thick, so heavy. Changbin closed his eyes and swallowed, trembling as fingertips finally brushed the side of his face. The breath he let out was tremulous; he didn’t understand anything that was going on, all he knew was that he didn’t want it to stop.

Hyunjin traced the cut of his jaw, grasping Changbin’s chin between thumb and forefinger. “Do you know?” Hyunjin said, his voice gone so low Changbin felt the words more than heard them. “How beautiful you are?” Changbin felt the breath against his skin before Hyunjin’s lips dared to brush against the shell of his ear. “You drive me to insanity, and all you have to do is glance my way.”

“You lie,” Changbin responded, his pulse threading so fast he felt dizzy. He turned his head, opened his eyes. Met Hyunjin’s gaze with a heated one of his own.

Hyunjin’s smile was slow, amused, one side twitching up. “I do not, at least not about this. You enchant me.”

Changbin’s eyes, gone half-lidded, widened; he cocked his head. “Does this mean you’re lying about something else?”

“Well, I’m certainly lying to the rest of the barracks about my whereabouts just now,” Hyunjin commented, amusement in his tone. He threaded fingers through the hair at Changbin’s nape. “I don’t think anyone would look too kindly on my midnight rendezvous to a prince’s chambers. But I had to.” His voice dropped again, his mouth so close to Changbin’s he felt like he could taste his words.

“To tease me like you do in the ring?” he asked as Hyunjin’s head moved down, eye contact broken.

The chuckle felt like velvet against Changbin’s throat. “If I did not tease you, my prince, I would surely ravish you then and there. If you’d have me.” Changbin leaned back just a little, watching Hyunjin through low-lidded eyes. He was every bit as mesmerizing as Changbin had always found him, infuriating as well. “After our match today, I could not stop thinking about you. Your arm, is it sore?”

Changbin unthinkingly rubbed at his bruised wrist, shaking his head. “Hardly a bother.”

“It's more than that. I am sorry.” Hyunjin took Changbin's wrist between both hands, brought it up to inspect. He placed the gentlest of kisses against the darkest bit of skin, making Changbin inhale sharply.

“I had to come see you, to tell you how struck I am with you. Tell me. Do you feel even a fraction of what I feel?”

“I-I-I don’t k-know. I—” Changbin’s head was fogged, desire unlike anything he’d ever experienced before coursing through him.

“Can I kiss you, Your Highness?”

That Changbin did know, but he couldn’t say it aloud for fear of his voice giving everything he was feeling away. He parted his lips and tipped his face up, the only answer he could provide.

Hyunjin’s beautiful, full lips split into a smile so sensuous it made desire throb through Changbin. When he felt Hyunjin lean forward, he closed his eyes, unable to stand it. His free hand was gripping his covers so tightly it was a wonder he didn’t shred them.

Hyunjin’s lips touched against Changbin’s so softly, so sweetly. It was a chaste kiss; at first. And then Hyunjin shifted, pressing more firmly, and Changbin was willing to give him whatever he wanted. His mouth opened under Hyunjin’s so easily, on a gasp as Hyunjin’s fingers touched against the pulse point of Changbin’s throat.

And then he was gone.

Changbin opened his eyes a moment too late, feeling out of sorts, breathless. Hyunjin was already to the curtains. “Wait,” Changbin called.

Hyunjin turned, his profile barely visible in the dying candlelight. “Sleep well, my prince,” he said, voice rough with something. Want, Changbin thought but didn’t know. “I know I won't, remembering instead your nightly state of dress.” And then he was striding across the room. In a flash, Changbin was again alone.

He touched his fingers to his lips, still tingling, the only indication that he hadn’t dreamt the entire thing. He smiled.

\--

Yongbok looked up from where he was oiling the leather of an ornate saddle, clearly belonging to the crown prince. Minho stopped his mindless tossing of an apple into the air. It was just the three of them in the tack room that late at night. “Anything?” Yongbok asked, voice hopeful.

Hyunjin shook his head.

\--

**Author's Note:**

> Please stay tuned!


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